


Open Doors

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Angst, Awkward Sexual Situations, Epic Fail, M/M, Triggers, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-29
Updated: 2012-06-29
Packaged: 2017-11-08 19:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which America tries to solve the UST, as does England and they both fail miserably.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Doors

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning!- Contains mild paedophilia, sub vs dom, conscience and incestuous themes. These are actually very mild, blink and you'll miss them (also, there is no shota. Just England being paranoid)
> 
> In other news, thank you for reading :) If there's any mistakes, feel free to point them out and I will fix them.

**|Open Doors|  
**

England wasn’t quite sure how it happened.   
  
He presumed it was because America was a teenager. He needed to stuff like this and he had probably been waiting for ages to manage to gather the courage to confess in the first place. Now that he had gotten the reaction he was hoping for, he had no reason to believe that England would deny him this.   
  
Or maybe America believed the rumours- the ones that stated that England couldn’t go a day without releasing his sexual desires on the nearest passerby. They were most untrue, at least that is what helped England sleep at night, and even then he had stopped such ridiculous escapades- that is, if you believed they ever happened, which he didn’t- long before America had ever confessed to him; around the time he felt the same desire to confess his sins.   
  
England wasn’t sure, but he thought that was the reason he found himself pinned against the kitchen worktop, America’s hands on the wall on either side of him, his lover’s eyes closed and their foreheads touching, scarlet. He reached a hand up, silently, to rest on America’s outstretched arm. It quivered lightly beneath his fingertips.   
  
“Yes?”   
  
America ducked his head further down, tucking it neatly under England’s chin. “Nothfink,” his mumbled, his voice stuttered from his neck’s odd positioning.   
  
“America, you don’t jump someone with no reason.”   
  
There was a terse silence for a few minutes and all England could hear was America’s heart beating, stuttered and uneven. Then he spoke. “Alfred.”   
  
It was so quiet, England was even sure that he had heard him correctly. “Sorry?”   
  
“You can call me that,” he whispered again, the heat off his face tingling at the sensitive skin at the elder’s throat, “Alfred.”   
  
England blinked, trying to push America’s arm down but failed miserably. He would release him when he was ready to. “Alright then, Alfred. What’s wrong?”   
  
“Don’t laugh,” came the automatic reply, a pleading sound as the elder clearly felt the pressure of America’s jutted out lip against his neck.   
  
“I wasn’t going to.”   
  
There was a stammered sigh and then America answered. “Sex.”   
  
He knew it was coming, but it didn’t stop England’s voice becoming a tad higher pitched as he attempted to reply with an air of indifference, “What of it?”   
  
“It might help this.”   
  
The ‘this’ America was talking about had to be the atmosphere, although it was a wonder the boy sensed it for once. The air around them was awkward. They radiated awkward gestures and awkward stances of being so close to each other but never touching; never touching.   
  
They were touching now, with something akin to preteen crushes behind a playground shed, faces pink and unsure of their actions, like it was anything new to either of them.   
  
“It might.”   
  
“Are you gonna give it a shot?” America sounded so fragile- England had never heard him like this before. It was peculiar and made him feel uneasy, but he nodded regardless.   
  
“Bedroom then.”   
  
He half expected America to pick him up and carry him- not that he wanted him to do that, because he not some fair maiden in need of rescuing. But he didn’t, he just kissed him chastely and held his hand. England had to lead America to the bedroom, almost like you would with a shy child.   
  
_(Child.  
  
And it all went downhill from there. )_   
  
They managed to get into the room alright and it wasn’t two seconds after the door had shut that America had him pinned to it, kissing him sloppily and roughly. He wasn’t the best kisser ever. He was messy and often applied too much pressure- England’s lips felt bruised already- but he dealt with it all. It wasn’t too bad, he supposed; he had gotten used to, and even liked, the warmth that curled up in his chest when America kissed him, even though he used to despise it.   
  
_(He didn’t despise it at first. Back when it was chaste. Childish.)_   
  
And then the warmth was gone and America, with his head hung in embarrassment, made his way over to the bed and sat down on it. From there, he looked up shyly and held his arms outstretched, beckoning for England to come over. He did then, clambering into America’s arms in a rather childish way, but he pushed that thought out of the way when the outstretched arms dropped to hold and rub his lower back.   
  
_(Child.  
  
The thought came back soon enough though, just to be pushed out once again.)_   
  
They just sat like that for a while; England’s arms around America’s neck and the other’s arms around his waist, thumb rubbing at his shirt. But acting comfortable when they weren’t, well, that wasn’t going to solve anything. And so, eventually, England felt teeth. The teeth bit down, gently, on the crook of his neck, and in a light scrape they were gone and replaced by America’s lips.   
  
_(Back when teething, America would nibble on England’s fingers. This wasn’t all that different, if you looked at it in a cynical manner)_   
  
England shook his head and America looked up at him, regretful and searching for his own failure marked upon the elder’s face; he saw none. He then felt a bite on his own shoulder and settled down, continuing to hold on to England’s waist as he lay back on the bed, coaxing the other to fall with him.   
  
_(America’s being nice. This is how you repay him?)_   
  
England’s eyes shot open and he pulled away from America’s shoulder, gasping for breath before reburying himself. He had startled the younger slightly, but soon there was a hand on his head, petting his hair gently. “You’re taking charge of this, right?” America asked, smiling as calmly as he can muster. It was then England’s turn to look startled as he looked into big, blue eyes as he swallowed numbly and nods.   
  
_(Disgusting. Simply horrific)_   
  
He pressed his lips to America’s again, his tongue poking through harshly- he had to get the thoughts out of his head. But they still wouldn’t go away as he spread the younger’s legs with his knee, earning a keening sound.   
  
_(You know what a person like you is called, right?)_   
  
He grimaced against America’s lips and the other pulls away with a frown because of it. He fakes a smile and kisses him again   
.   
_(A pervert)_   
  
America’s hands are shaking as they try and undo England’s belt. He hangs his head when he realises that he can’t get it open.   
  
_(Depraved)_   
  
England opened it for him and then allowed America to slide it through the loop holes. “Hey, Arthur,” he mumbled, his head still hanging.   
  
_(Sick)_   
  
“What is it, Alfred?” he replied, trying not to let any word shake.   
  
_(Cradle Snatcher)_   
  
America was blushing again, from ear to ear as his eyes fluttered shut and he blurted, “I-I haven’t done this before...”   
  
It was rare to see him so off guard, so England wasn’t even sure that he heard him correctly. But after a few seconds of deadly painful silence he realised that he most certainly had heard right and that his sub-consciousness was right also.   
  
_(Paedophile)_   
  
England scrambled off America as fast as he could- sadly ‘as fast as he could’ literally translated as ‘fell right onto the floor’. The younger jumped up, looking over the side of the bed with a worried expression. “Arthur! Are you alri- hey! You aren’t laughing at me are you? You better not be!”   
  
England hid his head in his hands. “I’m not laughing Amer- Alfred.”   
  
He really wasn’t. He actually didn’t find it funny although he knew he would find it appropriate to tease America with later. Right now, though, he just felt sick with himself.   
  
“Why are you on the floor then? Quit hiding!” America huffed and grabbed both of England’s hands, yanking them away from their position as guards in front of his now visibly horror-stricken face. America’s own fell. “What’s wrong?”   
  
“Nothing,” England said quickly, shaking his head to and fro to try and underline this blatant lie, “Just...since it’s just that, how about you take control?”   
  
America stared a moment longer before puffing out his cheeks. “How is that logical?”   
  
“Alfred.”   
  
It was amazing really. To just say somebody’s name in such a pleading tone and nothing else and they would do what you asked with no questions. Any queries that had been on the tip of America’s tongue moments beforehand disappeared as he stared into green eyes that denied every single one of them an answer.   
  
Sometimes, questions are just best left unanswered.   
  
Sometimes they’re not.   
  
But America nodded dumbly and England scuttered up on to the bed again, this time to lie next to where the younger was sitting. The hint was soon received and America made his way over to lie across England’s chest, running his fingers through locks of off-blonde hair.   
  
It was a few minutes before they tried again and when they did America saw it fit to climb full on top of England, knees placed on either side of him. Taking in what was under him, America bit his lip and turned away for a moment before looking back.   
  
England’s eyes were squeezed shut- it was okay in the sense that he couldn’t be arguing with America for staring when he couldn’t help it- and his eyebrows were tensed in expectation. The very tips of his ears were red, almost unnoticeably so. His crisp white shirt had ridden up slightly to show where his hip bone jutted out- he wasn’t overly thin, but enough so that it made America want to feed him up on hamburgers and cholesterol until his bones were safely under a layer of skin. His trousers sagged loosely due to the lack of belt he now wore.   
  
America grabbed England’s wrist and then stopped, nipping at his own lip again. He didn’t wish to overpower him. He didn’t want to put him in a submissive situation but he wasn’t sure how not to. Anything he had read concerning the matter had been shameless het from France and shameless not from Japan with full submission and domination in the works.   
  
He just couldn’t do that.   
  
He had worked so hard to be equal.   
  
He got an idea and rolled over, still holding on to England’s hips, so his back was firm on the mattress. “Is this way okay?” he asked, smiling gently up at him.   
  
England stared a moment longer than he felt was necessary, before shaking his head viciously. “No, seriously, Alfred,” he said, his voice jittered as he looked the other way again, “I don’t think I can.”   
  
America’s face fell as his plan was dismissed and he found himself on top of England again, still with no idea what to do about the matter at hand.   
  
Hands ran through hair and fingers went to buttons and even when England was shirtless and almost trouser-less underneath him, America couldn’t feel anything but worry and fear.   
  
_(I’m going to hurt him. I don’t know if I can control my strength)_   
  
England cocked an eyebrow at him as he nipped another piece of his lip. “Is something the matter?” he asked carefully. All he got in reply was a venomous shake in America’s head as he tried to undo his own belt buckle.   
  
“N-nothing’s the matter with me!” America laughed forcibly, his laugh even stammered and jittery, “I’m just peachy keen, that’s all!”   
  
England took a chance to look down and clearly saw the lie for what it was. “But you’re not,” he grumbled before sighing and sitting up and scooching over, “So tell me what the matter is.”   
  
America shook his head and took off his belt fully and then pulled his shirt off over his head.   
  
The elder then huffed and grabbed the other’s belt loops yanking them forward a little for inspection. America let a little ‘oof’ out of them for this movement.   
  
England couldn’t think of an appropriate way to do it without lying down on his stomach; and he didn’t want to do that as it was uncomfortable for both of them. With this thought in mind, he beckoned America to stand up off of the bed.   
  
“What are you doing?” he asked, worriedly as he swivelled his legs around- minding not to hit England in the face- so he could stand up. The other stood up a second later, just to turn around to face America after successfully manoeuvring around him.   
  
England huffed at the question before pressing a chaste kiss to America’s cheek- notachildnotachilnonono- and then lips before placing his hands on his shoulders. “Well, I have to find some way of getting you going, right?” he murmured before slowly making his way down, pressing kisses along America’s chest and stomach before reaching denim.   
  
He stopped momentarily to ponder about the task at hand and about whether he should use teeth or hands. He decided on hands soon enough as it was faster but he only got once button done before he felt a blunt pain in his forehead and his back was aching from being slammed against the door.   
  
America had kicked him in the face.   
  
He looked up in shock at the younger before exclaiming loudly, “What the bloody hell was that for!?”   
  
And then he saw it. The look of almost unreadable regret-  _but not regret_ \- and sadness-  _but not too sad_ \- as he saw himself, on his knees, reflected in America’s piercing blue eyes gaze.   
  
He stood up quickly and brushed off his sagging trousers before quickly exiting through the door. Moments later, America heard the kettle thunder into life.   
  
\--   
  
It’s only when the kettle stopped boiling that England heard America’s footsteps padding down the stairs. He turned and realised that the younger had gotten into his pyjamas and slippers and was not meeting his gaze again. He turned away again, feeling guilty for having put the other in such a situation and feeling sick at the repercussions of it.   
  
It was only when he felt America’s hand wrap around his as he was pouring the water into to cups, one with instant coffee and the other with a teabag, and he didn’t flinch that he thought that maybe things could change for the better this time.   
  
They drank their beverages in silence, but Alfred didn’t let go of Arthur’s hand.   


  


**|End|**


End file.
